Curvy, Curvy, Topsy-Turvy
by Margay96
Summary: Deadpool gets turned into a lady. It's not as bad as he thought. Peter doesn't know what to think when apparent ninja smart-ass Wendy crashes into his life. All he knows is that she's suddenly everywhere. And bald. And hot. She shows up in his civilian life, and worms her way into Spider-Man's life as well. Obviously, there's only one way to handle this situation... (Spideypool)
1. Manic Monday

It had started off like any other day. Of course that was before shit went to hell. Deadpool had been tracking down some scum named...shit, who was his target again? He tried to sift through the fog in his head, but as was always the case after he died, his thoughts were vague and nebulous. And he had died, of that much he was sure. What else had happened? He seemed to recall some obscure arcane mumblings and…pointing. Yep, there had definitely been pointing. Lots and lots of…pointing….and, ugh, his thoughts were slipping away again.

 _Focus Wade, focus._ He could do this. There was something _important_ , something…blue…and red…and…Spider-Man? Spider-Man had been here?

"Spidey?" Wade rasped, at the pain in his throat. He struggled to open his eyes. "Aww, come on brain, work with me here". Ignoring the pain in his right arm, Wade dragged it up and forced his eyes apart with a squelching noise accompanied by a slight pain that had he not known better, he might have been suspicious that he had just lost a small portion of his eyelid.

Glancing around, he was greeted by the sight of crates. Lots and lots of crates.

"Must be a warehouse." There it was again. He frowned at how raspy his voice sounded. Cautiously, he reached up and pushed his gloved hand underneath his mask and felt his neck. His fingers fumbled for a moment until they jutted across a thin ridge that ran from one side of his neck to the other. Well, that definitely explained the voice. And, he wagered, it was probably what had killed him as well.

"Hello? Heeeellloooo?" Wade called out. "Anybody home? I'm not actually dead. Just so you know. Spider-Man? You here? Bad guys? Anyone? ANYONE!?...Bueller?" Okay then. All alone. Deadpool frowned. He had literally been left for dead. Okay yeah, that wasn't exactly unusual for him, but Spidey? Spider-Man was like the _ultimate_ do-gooder _._ And he had left him, poor little Deadpool, for dead. Well if that wasn't just the _motherfucking_ cherry to top off the proverbial shit-filled cake. Deadpool sighed and let himself slump back down to the no doubt hepatitis infused floor. "Well fuck you too Spider-Man". With any luck, the name of his current employer would come back to him. Of course even if it did, Deadpool wasn't sure whether or not he'd actually completed his task. _Hell,_ he couldn't even remember what the job _was_.

That was always they worst part about dying, he supposed. It wasn't the pain. The whole cancer versus healing factor thing had raised his pain tolerance to levels that scared even him. Not that it didn't hurt. It _always_ hurt. Wade had just stopped caring. It wasn't even the waking up alone bit. Yeah, it sucked, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. No, the worst part was how disconnected he felt upon reawakening. He could never quite think straight, and his brain always seemed to be rather distant from his body. It was just damn uncomfortable.

Wade shifted, trying in vain to find comfort on the cold floor. Even now his body felt weird. His arms somehow too short for his body, his legs somehow too long. He felt like he had been fed through a pasta machine and then stuffed back into his skin suit. And damn if that wasn't a disgusting metaphor.

"Disgusting like me", Wade chuckled. He frowned. "That's not right." His voice still sounded off. He didn't sound like he had been gargling gravel anymore, but now his voice had an annoying, somehow perky twinge to it.

"Testing, testing, one two three." Yep, there it was again. His voice was definitely a few octaves higher than it normally was. _Great_ , that was just what he needed. Wade hated when his regeneration went wrong. It was a simple fix sure, but it usually involved reopening whatever wound had healed incorrectly.

"I just got this suit dry cleaned too," Wade pouted. Reopening wounds meant blood, and lots of it. In this case, it might mean that he got to die again too. Joy. He heaved a sigh and sat up, casting his eyes about for his sword. However, he quickly abandoned his search, distracted by something that was just not supposed to be there.

"No, that's not possible," Wade breathed. Nope, definitely impossible. Except, yeah, he checked again and they were _still there_.

"Boobs," He said in wonderment, prodding one with a questioning finger. There was no other explanation for the two lumps now sitting on his chest. "Two of them. I've got two boobs _Heh_ , two, I've got a _pair_ of boobs." Did boobs even come in pairs? People didn't go around saying that they had a pair of arms. Well, at the very least amputees surely didn't. What even was the correct terminology for- _Focus, Wade_ , he reminded himself because that _really_ wasn't the issue at hand. No, the issue was why he even had boobs in the first place. _The Voice Change_ , a voice in the back of his head reminded him. A feeling of dread slowly started to creep up on him.

"No, no… no no no nonononono…" His hand strayed down toward his crotch and _groped_. Frantically, he checked again. And again. It was gone. His greatest asset, the single greatest thing he had to offer the world, the stuff of poetry and sonnets (okay, maybe that was pushing it just a _little_ too far. Not that he was little! He was a perfectly average size, thank you for asking. Or, at least, he _was_ ) was just…gone. And in its place...

Wade allowed his hand to stray a little farther southward. Cautiously, he pressed down with his middle finger. Suddenly, he yanked his hand back as a jolt of pleasure caused his hips to buck upward. _Fucking cupid_ , that thing was sensitive.

…And _SHIT,_ it was official. He, Wade Winston Wilson, possibly the manliest man to ever exert his testosterone on the face of the planet, was officially, undisputedly and indeniably…

"…A goddamn motherfucking female."


	2. Strangers in the night

"Look," Wade splayed his fingers out onto the gritty counter of the bar. "I've had a really shitty day, possibly one of my worst and _certainly_ more horrible than anything you could have ever experienced. I'm not asking for much. Just a little something to take the edge off. So please, for the love of all things holy and sacred, will you please just give me my _goddamn alcohol_?!" If those few words came out a bit whiny, that was hardly his fault. He blamed his new set of vocal chords and the stupid estrogen that was probably living it up in his body, having gleefully kicked out his precious testosterone.

He was swimming in stolen clothes too big for him, but he hadn't had much choice since his Deadpool duds had been effectively ruined. Even he drew the line at living in completely blood-soaked garments. Plus, the entirety of the portion of the suit that was meant to cover his ... _ass_ ets had been mysteriously burned off. So there was that.

The only things he found in the warehouse that were actually wearable had been on the corpse of one of the guards that he had found littering the floor. It was a stereotypical guard outfit, cargo pants and a black tank top, but for some reason, whatever organization had hired these guys seemed to have a fetish for tall guys. There was not one person in that warehouse under seven feet tall. So Wade was stuck in the clothes of a giant, squirming under the bartender's penetrating gaze. He hadn't even been able to salvage his mask, what with the whole being throat being slit thing and all, so now everyone knew what a fucking _freak_ he looked like.

"Sorry Miss, No ID, no booze." The bartender leveled his gaze at Wade, his glare burning its way out from underneath his fractious eyebrows.

"And I told you _sir_ , that I have my identification right here. It's not my fault if it's a little inaccurate." Wade jammed his driver's license underneath the bartender's nose. The tapster just pushed it away and shrugged in the universal what-can you do way. Wade frowned eyed the flashy little name badge pinned to the bartender's flannel which read _Mark_ in thin loopy letters. Where the hell did this guy think he worked? The Ritz? Starbucks? Certainly not this dingy little dive bar, and certainly not anywhere nice enough to warrant that fairy script. Oh well, at least the author wouldn't have to keep writing 'the bartender' for the rest of the chapter.

"Come on, man. Look, I promise I'm over 21. Can you please just give me a little something? Off the record, I promise. It's not like any of these mooks are going to tell on ya." Wade gestured vaguely to the barely populated room behind him. Mark just harrumphed and turned away to welcome in a customer who had just entered. Wade barely registered the presence of the brunette sliding onto the stool next to him before continuing with his futile quest.

"Mark. MARK. Honey, sweetie, baby. I don't think you understand how important this is to me." He made a weak attempt to flutter his eyelashes, an action that earned him a resigned grimace and not the shy blush and booze he was hoping for. _Okay, that's not working._ Wade made a mental note to _never_ try that again. Clearly his seduction skills sucked no matter what gender he was. I mean for chrissakes, I'm a freakin' gir-"

"Is something the matter?" Deadpool turned to the person sitting beside him. He blinked. The person occupying the space next to him could only be described as grade-A jailbait. Between the button down shirt and the goober haircut, there was just something about this guy that screamed dork. The man started to fidget under his gaze, and with a start, Wade realized that he'd been staring slightly longer than what was normally deemed 'socially acceptable'.

"Hmm? What? I mean, yeah. Cloudy with a chance of meatballs over her won't serve me, even though I've shown him my ID. My perfectly _valid_ ID." To this, Mark rolled his eyes and turned to the brunette.

"So? What'll it be? I'm assuming you have some form of _actual_ identification?" Now it was Wade's turn to roll his eyes.

"Uh, yeah I'll have the cheapest beer you have." The man said, fishing in his pockets for his wallet. "Uh, hold on a sec. I know it's here somewhere." He changed pockets, grinning when he withdrew a battered leather wallet. "Here you go," he said, forking over a piece of plastic. The bartender inspected the ID carefully and, apparently satisfied, handed it back and turned around to get the beer.

"Actually," the stranger said, eyeing Wade's dejected face. "Make that two." Mark's eyes darted over to Wade and then back. Slowly, his left eyebrow started inching up towards his hairline.

"Look, sh-she's my…friend. We've known each other forever…She's definitely legal, and, and old enough to drink." Jeez, could the guy possibly be a _worse_ liar? The Mark's eyebrows twitched even further up his forehead. He gave his two patrons a long stare. Eventually he sighed and shook his head.

"Right, she's legal, and I didn't see _nothin'_ , ya hear?" He glared as he thunked two open beers down onto the counter and turned away.

"R-right. Thanks!" The brunette called after him, clearly relieved that his bull had gone over without a hitch.

"So," Wade turned to his generous companion. "Am I going to be lucky enough to know my mysterious benefactor's name? Or is this going to be one of those stranger in the night type deals?" His companion frowned and shook his head.

"No, nothing like that. My name's Peter. You just seem like you're in a bad place right now, and I thought I'd be nice enough to help."

"Of course I'm in a bad place." Wade gestured behind him to their decrepit surroundings. You think I'd be _here_ if I had another choice?" Peter grinned at his lame attempt at a joke. Huh. Well that was odd. People weren't usually this nice to him. Wade hoped it didn't have anything to do with the fact that he had breasts now. God knows all he needed now were guys fawning over him for his _body_. Although, actually, that didn't sound that bad. It might be a nice change for once. Certainly better than being the root cause for another's technicolor yawn.

"You have a name?" Oh shit. Now pretty mcgeekypants was looking at him with a bemused grin. Too late, Wade realized that he'd been staring. _Again_. Geez, the guy wasn't even that hot. He had more of an 'adorkable' vibe going for him. Not the macho hero thing Wade usually went for.

"Umm, _yeah_ , of course I have a name! It's Wa-" he started to reply and stopped. Okay, no. Bad Wade. He couldn't let word of his….. _transformation_ spread. He would be a laughingstock. Probably never find any decent merc work again. Okay then, he needed a new name. Something that started with a W, because he was clearly wierding Peter out enough without him thinking that Wade had forgot his own _name_. Except he was drawing a blank. The only female W name he could think of was Wanda, and she would definitely kill wade if she ever found out that he had used it. That is, if she didn't die of laughter first.

Okay, W… W…W W W W…W. It was times like this that Wade thanked his mouth's ability to function separately from his brain, because even though his entire thought process had taken up nearly two paragraphs of text, his mouth was still forming the Cheshire cat grin he made when pronouncing his A's. In desperation, he glanced out the window over Peter's shoulder. And lo and behold, his saving grace was lit up bright enough to cast shadows over the parking lot. Wade didn't think he'd ever been so glad to see a pair of red pigtails in his life. Well, maybe once, but that was a completely different situation.

"-endy."

Peter looked confused. "Your name is Waendy?"

"Uh, no. My name is Wendy. I just had a tickle in my throat. You know how it is." Wade mentally patted himself on the back for a job well done. Oh yeah, he was _totally_ handling this whole woman thing.

"Uh, sure? I guess." Peter grew silent, his eyes sliding past Wade to stare at the television mounted behind the counter.

"Yep." Well this was turning into a _fascinating_ conversation. He followed Peter's gaze to the tv. "Ugh, really? Well that's just great," he muttered under his breath.

"You have a problem with Spider-Man?" Oops, maybe he hadn't been that quiet. Peter tore his focus from the news to fix Wade with a stare of… _was that annoyance?_ Wade was at a momentary loss for words. He hadn't expected this man to respond with vexation. "Never, mind. Of course you are. Who isn't, right?" Peter grabbed his beer and took an angry swig, frowning at the taste. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a violent cough. Wade awkwardly thumped him on the back, trying to dislodge whatever beer residue had stolen Peter's ability to vocalize.

"I take it you don't drink much."

"Jeez, whatever gave you that impression?" Peter asked dryly between wheezes. "Barkeep? Pray tell, may I have some water?" Mark gave him a strange look, but poured him a glass and slid it across the counter. There was a brief silence as Peter regained his composure.

"What's your beef with Spider-Man?"

"It's more like what's his problem with me." One look at Peter's face told him that that was hardly enough explanation. Wade took a long pull from his drink. "Okay then, it's like this. I was in a situation- a bad one- and I got hurt, violated even. And yeah, maybe it wasn't that big of a deal, but still, he left me. Spider-Man left me there. To die." He glanced over at Peter, who had gone pale and stiff. "So yeah, it's the kind of thing that makes you lose faith in your heroes. Which kinda sucks, because he used to be my idol."

"I'm sure he didn't mean it. He's a busy guy. There might've been another emergency, or something. H can't be everywhere at once, right? I mean, not to belittle your plight or anything, but he might not even have known you were there." He seemed to want to say something else, but for whatever reason, he remained reticent.

"He was there. He abandoned me. End of story." Wade raised his bottle towards the tv in mock salute. "Here's to the _real_ heroes." He rolled his eyes and guzzled down his liquor, its bitter taste somehow perfectly reflecting his mood. Oh well, shitty beer for a shitty day.

Peter stared at him. "So that's why you're drinking?"

Wade chuckled. "Buddy, I'd be drinking either way. This here just gives me a reason." Peter, at a momentary loss for words, took a silent sip of his beer.

"So, I told you mine. You tell me yours. You obviously aren't much of a drinker, so what's the occasion?" This earned wade a dubious frown. Gosh, didn't his guy have any other expressions than doubtful and offended? Maybe he was secretly Derek Zoolander or something. Wade suddenly had a strange desire to see what Blue Steel would look like on peter's face. Probably sexy as hell.

Okay, where did _that_ come from? He frowned at his drink. What was this stuff even made of?

"Come on. Seriously. I've put laid out my cards on the table, now show me _your_ hand baby boy."

Okay, _that_ got a response. Peter's head whipped up. "What did you just-? Never mind." He paused, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "My job can be stressful sometimes. Today was an especially bad day."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a photographer."

"Oh. Well, I can definitely see why that would be _stressful_. I mean, you have to make sure the kids' hair looks nice, and you have to get them to actually look toward the camera. Don't even get me started on all the _buttons_. I mean the calluses alone would be enough to set even an altar boy like yourself off on a raging bender." Okay, that may have been a little too facetious, even for him.

"No, I'm a newspaper photographer. I cover the big events. You know, the major superhero battles, candid shots of unscrupulous politicians, that sort of thing." Wade glanced down at Peter's hands, which were currently nervously shredding the label on his bottle. Jeez, maybe the kid was a little more upset than he realized.

"Look, it's not a big deal. You don't have to-"

"I saw a man get killed today." Peter's voice was quiet, so low that Wade almost missed it. He seemed to be on the edge of an emotional breakdown, his shattered nerves about to snap. Wade chose his next words carefully.

"I suppose," he replied timidly, "it goes with the territory."

"I know, I know, but that's not what I'm upset about." Okay, now Wade was confused. Fortunately, Peter wasn't done with his story. "I saw a man get killed, and I didn't do anything. I didn't help. I didn't even-" Peter's voice broke off, and he took a second to compose himself. He continued, his voice still slightly wobbly.

"I left. I ran away. I should've stayed. I could've… _I_ _should have_ …" He trailed off, seemingly unsure about _what_ exactly he should have done.

Wade sighed. "Look, man, I don't know what to tell you. I'm not exactly a therapist you know?" He put a hand on Peter's shoulder, if only to stop him from shaking. "The way I see it, it was a bad situation from the get-go. You should be lucky that you're alive, sitting here, _at all_. A man died, yes, but it wasn't _your fault_. You're a photographer, not a superhero." Somehow, his comforting seemed to be having an adverse effect on Peter, causing the young man to hunch further in on himself and begin slashing at his label with renewed vigor. So much for maternal instinct.

Wade backtracked, "Look, you said it yourself, the man was dead. There was nothing you could do. Dead is dead." The fingers stopped their carnage, and Peter took a ragged breath. The look in his eyes was unsettling. Wade had seen lightning storms calmer than Peter's flashing eyes.

"Everyone dies." Okay, this was bad. Peter wasn't even looking at him anymore. He was just staring listlessly at the ceiling. 'Everyone. My mom, my dad, Uncle Ben, Captain Stacy, Gwen…" His voice started to waver. "Everyone I love dies." Wow, and Wade thought _he'd_ had a rough life. Somehow being alone because everyone you loved died seemed even more pitiful than being alone because you were a monster.

"You loved this man? The one who died?"

Wade's question seemed to shake Peter out of his trance. "What? No. I didn't really even know him. I'm just so sick of everyone dying."

"It's part of life. You can't escape it. You just have to accept it and move on." Big words from a mercenary. Wade couldn't help but cringe at how condescending his words sounded.

Peter nodded. "And tell me Wendy, have you ever lost someone?"

"Too many. Not all of them died, to be sure, but yeah, I've lost people too. People leave. I deal. In the end, it's always just me and my lonesome." He picked up his beer and inspected it. It was about half gone. He hoped there would be enough left. He wasn't even a little buzzed.

"How do you cope?"

"I find new friends. Takes a while, I'm not exactly what you call 'prime friendship material', but I have a way of wearing people down. Friends help a lot actually. In the meantime, though, Alcohol helps." Wade gave a sad smile.

"To friends and alcohol then," Peter offered his drink up. Wade clink his bottle against Peter's.

"To friends and alcohol." Wade knocked back his beer and Peter did the same beside him.

The two men finished their drinks in silence, and soon left the bar to go their own quiet ways, each lost in thought.


	3. Pretty Woman

Wade clicked the door to his apartment closed behind him and slumped against the wall, struggling to muster up the confidence to proceed.

There really wasn't any point in putting it off any longer. He had carefully avoided any and all reflective surfaces on his way home. He had even gone as far as to stick to the back alleys and side roads, lest he catch a glimpse of his reflection in one of those big window shop displays.

But, now, whatever small remnant of alcohol was still in his system was making him brave. Wade frowned at that. He hadn't actually expected anything to come from his brief reprieve in the pub. Thanks to his healing factor, it usually took the better part of a liquor store to get him drunk. For him, alcohol was mostly just a placebo. It gave him a false confidence, helped him feel less alone. But now, however the alcohol had affected him, there was only one thing Wade was absolutely sure of.

He hadn't had enough.

Wade dragged himself into the bedroom, the only room in the apartment with a mirror (He had been sure to smash the one over the sink when he moved in). He opened his closet and pushed aside his spare uniforms and dresses to grab his mirror.

He grunted with effort as he wrangled it out. When had it gotten so heavy? Once free of the closet's clutches, he stood it up in the corner of the room. A dust cloud that formed around him as he pulled its cover off, a physical reminder that he hadn't played dress-up in a while. After a count of three, Wade forced himself to look at his reflection.

"Huh." Wade wasn't entirely sure what he had been expecting, but the face that greeted him was surprising. He looked like himself. A more feminine model to be sure, but he could still see himself in this face. His strong cheekbones balanced out his now dainty chin, and his eyes were still the same bright blue they had always been. There was really only one main difference, one Wade couldn't stop staring at.

He ghosted his fingers over his smooth skin. He was… _healed_. His scars were _gone_. Wade closed his eyes, gripping the mirror hard enough to make his fingers ache. This was too much. Never, not once in a million years would he have ever expected _this_.

Dimly, he registered a tightening in his chest. _Breathe, Wilson, breathe_ , he reminded himself. He looked back up at himself and felt a rush of exhilaration at seeing his new creamy skin.

Wade grinned maniacally and started tearing his clothes off. He needed to _see_ goddammit. _Ah, hells yeah._ He looked _good_. Wade twisted his naked body back and forth in front of the mirror, admiring his new form from every angle. Try as he might, he couldn't find a single blemish anywhere on his body, a fact that sent little shivers of elation through him every time he thought about it.

After striking a few sexy poses, the excitement started to die down a little, and Wade took stock of the rest of his body. Again, not much had actually changed. He wasn't some Disney princess, he had actually kept most of his muscle; A fact which had him relieved, because it had taken him a long time to reach this level of fitness. His abs didn't show as much, but then, that was to be expected. Wade drew his hands down along his new curves and twisted, admiring the view from the rear. Okay, well he wasn't Kim Kardashian. He giggled and wagged his butt at the mirror.

He turned back around and looked at his chest. "Darn comic books and their unrealistic depictions of the superheroine form", he muttered down at his breasts. He grabbed them with both hands. He could barely get a decent handful. He rated them B, for Barely There. He let them go, grinning at how they jiggled, but was ultimately disappointed that they didn't defy gravity like every other female superhero's seemed too.

He had figured that magically becoming a woman would make him the most attractive woman in New York, or at the very least, super hot. He hadn't expected that he'd look _normal_. He was attractive sure, but not the kind that would be turning heads as he strutted down Main Street. Hell, he didn't even have _hair._

Wade rubbed his head regretfully. And kept rubbing. His head was fuzzy. Why was his head fuzzy? Wade walked over to the mirror and tilted his head. Okay, maybe he did have hair. It was ridiculously short, so much so that he couldn't discern its color, but it was still hair. Wade could barely remember the last time he had had hair. He couldn't stop himself from touching it.

His examination over, Wade next turned his attention to his wardrobe. He ignored his uniforms, and instead pulled out all of his dresses and splayed them out on top of the bed. His eyes danced over his cheerleader outfit, his marvel girl costume, and his various Lolita dresses. Didn't he have anything normal to wear? He picked up his Marilyn Monroe dress, but threw it back on the bed. It was too fancy to wear in public. Besides, it was a cleavage dress, and he was a classy broad.

Okay, casual clothes it was. He could save the dresses for later.

He pulled open his dresser, and snagged one of his frillier pairs of panties. Most of the lingerie had owned was made specifically for dudes, but he still had a few pairs of women's underwear from when he was just starting to experiment. He slipped the lace onto his hips and breathed a sigh of relief when they fit. He would have to go buy more, but this would suffice for now. He fished around to the back of his dresser to find his bras. He didn't wear them that often as his suits tended to get destroyed, and the bras tended to raise more questions than he felt like answering in the heat of battle.

The bra he had selected was one of his favorites. It was red with lacy black flowers and a matching trim. However, Wade's grin soon vanished as he realized that it wasn't going to work. It was _tight_ , and not in a fun way. "Well fuck you too." Wade grumbled, bitterly shoving the offending garment back into the drawer. "Guess I'm going commando."

Wade drew open another drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Pulling the shirt over his head, he was relieved to find that, while a little baggy, the shirt did a fairly decent job of concealing his pointy nipples. Next, he pulled the rough fabric of his jeans up his legs and fastened them around his hips. They fit snugly around his waist, but the legs were a little long. Apparently, he'd shrunk a few inches. His pants would still fit, but Wade was still miffed as he rolled up the bottoms to make them fit. Now he really would have to go shopping.

He sat on the floor and pulled his socks and shoes back on, the only things beside his weapons he had managed to salvage from the warehouse. He thanked Liefeld for giving him such small feet and the author for not forcing him to go shoe shopping, because he really liked his boots.

Shoes on, He got up and looked in the mirror again. He didn't look _bad_ , but he couldn't go out in public like this. He was wearing clothes that were obviously too big for him, and, well, he was bald. He dug through his pouches until he found one of his small knives, and cut a slit halfway up the side of his shirt. After he had tied the two sections together, he inspected his handiwork. Okay, that had helped a little. The shirt was no longer baggy, and it even hugged his curves a little.

Now what to do with his head? _Bald is Beautiful_ , a little voice in the back of his chided, but Wade ignored it. People stared. They couldn't help it. It was the entire reason he wore a mask in the first place. Hmm, a mask… Wade toyed with the idea for a moment, after all he did have plenty of spares, but ultimately decided against it. He didn't want to risk anyone recognizing him, and besides, he was enjoying his new face. He didn't want to cover it up.

What else could he use? He didn't own any scarves, and he sure as hell didn't have a wig laying around. He silently cursed himself out for not wearing hats anymore. That would have been extremely convenient. Well, what did else he have? His eyes alighted on his utility belt. He usually kept a bandana in there to use as a tourniquet for when he lost limbs and didn't feel like bleeding everywhere. He pulled it out, and once he was satisfied that it wasn't bloodstained, tied it around his head.

Wade looked in the mirror and snickered. "We can do it!" he chuckled and struck a Rosie the Riveter pose. Happy with his appearance, Wade grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his pocket smiling.

It was time to go shopping.


	4. Daydream Believer

Wade stared up at the sculpted black script of the boutique's sign. The mall was surprisingly crowded, and he knew that he was blocking traffic, but somehow he couldn't get his feet to move. Wade took a deep breath and eyed the lace and pink tulle decorating the window. _Get a grip, Wade_ , he told himself. _It's just an underwear shop. Underwear isn't scary._ This had been the part of his trip that he had been looking forward to the most. _Vixens_ _& Roses _ was _the_ lingerie shop. How many times had he been walking by, drooling over the panties and corsets in the display window, only to be driven away by the wary eyeballing from the shopkeepers? There was a reason he did most of his shopping online.

But now…No one would judge him. He was a woman buying women's undergarments. There was nothing wrong about that. It was a completely normal thing to do. So why wasn't he going in?

Wade growled in frustration, earning him a few concerned glances from passerby. Okay, he could do this. He tightened his grip on his shopping bags and forced his feet to move from where they were rooted to the floor. _It's just a store_ , he reminded himself.

Upon entering the store, he was greeted by a cool blast of air and a perky sales clerk.

"Hi! My name's Kelly! What can I do for you today?" The bubbly twenty something was practically bouncing up and down in front of Wade. This girl was way too happy to be selling underwear.

"Um, I need underwear."

"Yeeeaaah, but, like, what kind? Casual? Sexy? Extra support?" With every option that she rattled off, Kelly provided what she no doubt perceived as 'helpful' body language to illustrate just what the purpose of each one was. Despite kelly's helpful hand 'diagrams', Wade was at a bit of a loss. He's never needed his underwear to actually be _functional_ in the past.

"Um, I don't know. I just um, recently got these," Wade grabbed his breasts. "And I'm trying to figure out what I need."

"Boob job, huh?" Kelly eyed Wade's modestly sized rack in doubt. "Don't worry honey, well get you set up and measured."

"Okay, that sounds good," Wade nodded gratefully. "And, um, as for the actual braziers and whatnot…I, uh, I want to look good."

"Don't worry sweetie, that's a given." Kelly winked and started to lead him deeper into the store.

Wade shook his head. "No, that's not what I mean. I mean…" Wade floundered for a moment, searching for the right words. "I want to look _good_. Like, better than I've ever looked. If someone were to look at me, I want the only words that they are capable of saying to be _damn_. But like, with two syllables. Basically, I'm treating myself. Once in a lifetime opportunity and all that, so spare no expense." Kelly's eyes lit up, and Wade could practically see the dollar signs in her eyes.

"Oh, darling, you do not know how much I've wanted someone to tell me that," she grinned and abruptly changed direction, pulling him towards a different section and plucking things off from various racks as they went.

xxxxxxxxx

"So what do you think?" Wade looked up from where he was admiring his reflection at the sound of Kelly's voice coming from outside his fitting room.

"Well, it's…umm…just see for yourself." He unlocked the door and draped himself across the doorway in what he hoped was a sexy pose. He had to hand it to Kelly, she was certainly earning her commission. Somehow everything she had pulled was exactly what he had been envisioning. It wasn't just underwear either. There were panties and bras, sure, but there were also a fair number of corsets and baby doll slips.

"Daaaaang girl, you are _rocking_ that get-up!" Kelly drolled and whistled appreciatively. She eyed Wade appreciatively. "Like, seriously, you are fine like wine. Nice like spice. Hot to trot. Other phrases that rhyme." Wade blushed. He wasn't used to people complimenting his appearance. And yeah, she was probably just saying that so that he'd buy more stuff, although a dark something lurking in her eyes told him that maybe that wasn't necessarily the case.

He looked _good_. Hell, he even looked _sexy_. Having already chosen some more practical undergarments, he had eagerly turned his attention to the various corsets and ensembles Kelly had picked out for him. Currently, he was wearing a red corset with a lacy black trim. He had also tried on the matching panties and garter belt. He fingered the detail on the corset and turned back to the mirror.

Yeah, he was bald, and yeah, he was a little stockier than most girls with a bra size of 38B (Kelly had helped him measure), but the overall effect was hardly unsightly. Wade had never thought of himself as attractive, at least, not since his time in the Workshop. He felt a warm surge of happiness bubble through him. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this happy. Mabye this wasn't the worst thing to happen to him. Of course, he didn't know how long it was going to last either, so he might as well enjoy it while he could.

He let Kelly know that he was ready to pay for his items and began changing into the clothes that he had bought earlier. Once dressed, Wade fished around in his purse (another purchase he was excited about) for his to do list. "I know you're here somewhere," Wade muttered, stirring the contents of his purse. "God, how do women ever find anything? Pouches are _sooooo_ much more convenient," Wade lamented. Finally, his fingers caught a hard edge, and Wade triumphantly pulled his pocket free from the clutches of his bag. "Okay, lessee here….Clothes, got that. Underwear, about to get that… Looks like the only thing left is-" Wade broke off, his face stretching into an ear splitting grin.

Oh, this was going to be _fun_.


	5. Good Vibrations

Wade stared at the display in front of him. He hadn't realized there would be so many…options. What the hell was a rabbit anyway? Wade picked up the device. The purpose of the larger, more _girthier_ part was obvious, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what the two, short flexible prongs were for.

"Need some help?" Wade turned to see a shorter blonde girl peeping over his shoulder. Judging by the apron and name badge, she worked here. "My name's Judy," she said, sticking out her hand. Wade shook it, silently judging the author for feeling the need to name every stock character he met in this story. "So, how can I help you today?"

Wade presented his gadget. "Um, yeah. What are these for?" He pointed to the prongs he had been puzzling over.

Judy giggled. "They're for clitoral stimulation. The idea is that you get a little something extra while you're getting off. Kinda like how when your partner rubs you while inside you." Right. Cause he _totally_ knew what _that_ felt like. "Is this your first purchase? I can totally help you figure out what you need."

Wade shook his head. "No, I'm used to the more vanilla run of the mill dildos. My partner and I used to use just this simple, anatomically accurate one and it worked great. We never needed anything fancy like this. I mean, adding a dildo to sex was kinky enough without over complicating matters." He paused, and saw that Judy was nodding along. _Huh_. He wasn't used to people letting him talk this long.

"So you're looking for something extra to spice things up?" Judy inquired.

"Uh, no. I just want something for personal use. I sort of left my old one behind in my hurry to leave." The baffled look on Judy's face compelled Wade to explain. "Bad break up."

" _Ah_ ," Judy pat him on the shoulder, her eyes glistening with understanding. Okay, maybe that was a slight exaggeration. She did seem sympathetic however. "Don't worry chica, we've all been there at some point." They turned their attention back to the wall of sex toys and Judy began educating Wade about all of the different types of dildos, vibrators, and general personal pleasuring devices he could buy. Eventually they decided on a sleek purple silicon dildo with a clitoral stimulator, because, according to Judy, they were "the best".

"Like seriously, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go back the 'normal' toys. You can't even imagine-" Wade was saved from having to listen to Judy's explicit rambling by another shop attendant. The sex shop was surprisingly busy for three O'clock on a Tuesday, but most of the other customers were in the porno and clothing sections. At least, as much as edible underwear could be considered clothing. Overall, it was quite the cute little shop. He couldn't get over how _clean_ it was either. Sex shops tended to have the unfortunate stigma of being grungy little holes in the wall, but this place was surprisingly well organized, and its staff were friendly, if a little crass.

"Hey Judy? Do we have anything smaller than this?" The woman behind them pushed a small dildo into Judy's arms. "I swear this is all we have, but, well," her voiced dropped to a whisper and jerked her head behind her to where her customer was waiting. "I think we've got a newbie. He's all shy and shit, and I swear every time I even say anything along the lines of dick, dildo, or derriere, he turns redder than my ass after a good spanking." Wade turned to look at the man behind him. A first timer huh? He remembered what it was like when he had first started experimenting.

He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected the man to look like. He sure as hell didn't expect to be greeted by khakis and a navy blue button down. Definitely not tousled brown locks or a face as red as the ripest tomato.

"Peter?" Wade asked bewildered. What were the odds…

xxxxx

It took Peter at least a full ten seconds for his brain to come back online. "W-Wendy? What-What are you doing here?" He cursed his parker luck. Of _course_ he would run into someone he knew. Of _course_ it would be just as he was picking out his first ever sex toy. Hell, it was his first ever sex _shop_. He was immediately glad that he hadn't let MJ accompany him. She would tease him about this moment until he was buried in the ground. Heck, she's probably visit his grave _just_ to keep rubbing it in. But seriously though, what were the odds?

"Um, shopping, _duh_." Wendy brandished her dildo in front of Peter's face and smirked as the red on his cheeks grew even darker.

The sales lady that Wendy had been talking to earlier leaned in and whisper something in her ear. Whatever it was must've been hilarious, because she immediately doubled over laughing.

"Him?" She snorted. Actually _snorted_. "Um no, my ex was _big_. Like, give the Juggernaut a run for his money big. Plus, unless he secretly has a metal arm and superpowers, I think it is safe to that we have _never_ had more than one brief moment of passion." She straightened up and wiped her eyes, a big stupid grin still plastered on her face.

"One night of passion? What the Hell? We literally just met last night. For like, less than an hour."

 _What the hell had Wendy been telling people?_

Wendy turned to the employees. "I picked him up in a bar. Our love knows no bounds." She pretended to swoon, cackling at the look on Peter's face. Oh, so that's what this was. She was joking. Peter chose to ignore the sudden hollowing in his chest at that realization.

"So baby boy, what are _you_ doing here?" Wendy eyed Peter's future purchase in amusement.

"I uh, I…got lost. And stopped in here to ask for directions." Three separate pairs of eyes stared back at him blankly. "Obviously." Wendy's eyes traveled from his face down to his tiny dildo and back up.

"Yeah, _obviously_ ," she said pointedly. Peter was at a loss for words, which for him, was quite the rarity. "Look, no judging, I mean I'm in here too, right?" She waved her own toy at him. "Who doesn't like taking it up the ass? It's great! You'll love it." Gosh, how could she act so nonchalant about this? In front of an audience, no less, as Judy and her friend still had yet to remove themselves. And Wendy was _still_ _talking_. Peter had only ever met one other person with less of a filter, and he was- _NO._ He immediately clamped down on that train of thought. He was _not_ going to think about that. That was dangerous territory. Certainly not something he wanted to think about while surrounded by phallic objects. Certainly not in front of the hot mess standing in front of him.

And that really was the best way to describe her, Peter reflected. It didn't have anything to do with her appearance, really. She actually looked very nice. She dressed simply, just jeans and a t-shirt, but it worked for her. Plus, the lack of hair on her head had the unsettling effect of drawing his gaze to her eyes. Her alluring, way too pretty eyes. Eyes that hadn't left his the entire time she's been talking. Peter gulped, suddenly feeling compelled to explain exactly why he, Peter Parker was in a sex shop.

"Look I'm not gay or anything." Peter did a face palm. Okay, that was _not_ what he had meant to say.

"I never said you were."

"I'm just…figuring somethings out."

Wendy nodded. "Dude, seriously, you don't need to explain. Least of all to me." _Wait what?_ "I mean, who hasn't been curious? And, oooh! Idea! I could help! Yeah, I could totally do that!" Wendy squealed, grabbing Peter by the shoulders.

Okay, that. That is what he meant by 'hot mess'. It was a personality thing. Somehow, she had the ability to go from 'normal' (if somewhat loquacious) to a toddler on a sugar bend at the snap of a finger. If she was a flower, she'd be a dandelion. That is to say, pretty and all over the place.

"Um, I'm not sure it's something you're _able_ to help me with."

Wendy's fingers left Peter suddenly, as if his skin had spontaneously turned to ice. "Oh, right. _Duh_. Of course _I_ can't help you. I'm a girl." Wendy pouted dejectedly. Peter had an overwhelming urge to hug her, she seemed so disappointed.

"Um, so if you two want, we can ring you up at the register." Both Peter and Wendy turned to the two saleswomen, who were still freaking _there_. Peter turned to Wendy, who, judging by her expression, had forgotten their presence.

"Er, it was…nice to…see you again," Peter chirped, snatching his toy and dashing toward the checkout counter, eager to leave. He could die of embarrassment later, privately, in the confines of his own home.

"Bye, Petey-pie!" Wendy called after him. "Let's do this again sometime soon!"


	6. I get a Kick out of You

Peter surveyed his surroundings. He had made sure to close the curtains and lock his doors. He had absolutely no desire to share this experience with anyone else. That is, at least not until he had figured things out. Peter snuggled back into the sheets on his bed. The article he had found had said to make sure that he was comfortable. If the numerous pillows overshadowing him were any indication, he had maybe gone a little _too_ overboard, but he sure was comfortable. Hungry, since he hadn't eaten all day, but cozy nonetheless.

He had put a condom over his dildo. The article hadn't actually mentioned it, but Peter figured it would make for easier cleanup. Apparently his dildo (it was more of a skinny butt plug really) was dishwasher safe, but just the thought of putting something that had been in his ass near where he put his dishes made his stomach churn, so a condom it was.

He stared at his sex toy apprehensively. The shop lady had assured him that it was the smallest one they had, but that didn't make it any less intimidating. Peter flipped open his computer and pulled up his favorite porn site. With a shaky breath, his hesitant fingers tapped across the keyboard and pulled up the search results for 'gay porn'.

 _Oh._ That was a lot of nudity. Like, a _lot_. It wasn't like Peter never watched porn, he did, he just didn't watch it that often. He had never really found it necessary. Tonight however, tonight was all about trying new things. Apparently, that now included gay porn.

Peter quickly clicked over to his 'how to' article. Lube, he needed lube. Peter clicked open the bottle he had bought specifically for this purpose. He drizzled a generous amount over his fingers. His article had said that there was no such thing as too much lube. Looking at his fingers, Peter doubted that was true.

Okay, he could do this. Peter took a deep breath and plunged a finger inside himself. Slowly, he started to work himself open. It felt…weird. Did people actually like this? Peter glanced over to his porn. Apparently, the two actors liked it very much, if the moans of pleasure were anything to go by. Peter shifted uncomfortably and gave his penis a couple of tugs, trying his best to get into it. He couldn't say it actually worked, but he felt loose enough to add another finger so he did.

Nope, he still wasn't feeling it. The article had mentioned something about stimulating the prostate. It hadn't said much, just that it was located on the forward wall of the rectum, and rubbing and pressure was the best way to stimulate it. Peter tried to curl his fingers forward, but he was too tight. Instead, he simply pushed up, doing his best to feel for anything that felt good. He was just about to give up when he felt a jolt of pleasure rush through him. Peter tried again and again, and soon he was fucking himself on his fingers with a newfound vigor.

One of the men in Peter's porno moaned, his ass filled with a huge chunk of man meat. Clearly, he was enjoying his job very much. Peter had to agree; this was great. He couldn't believe he had never thought to try this before. His eyes rolled back with pleasure and his once flaccid dick now stood proudly at attention.

When he felt ready, Peter withdrew his fingers and grabbed his new toy. He squirted even more lube over it than he had his fingers. Slowly, Peter started to work it inside him. As he did, Peter finally allowed his mind to wander.

In his mind, his toy was fleshier. It was no longer black, but a blotchy cream color. He imagined scarred fingers running up and down his body, and he felt one of his hands float up to mimic the motion. He pretended he could feel hot breath on his ear as Deadpool fucked him in the ass. It was kind of amazing.

Despite feeling amazing, Peter quickly banished his fantasy. It was too real. He could hear Wade's quiet laughter ringing in his ears. It was all too easy to imagine the merc fucking him. The last thing he needed was to run into the man while on patrol; all he would be able to think about would be this moment right now. He'd never be able to look the man in the face again.

Instead, Peter focused his attention back on his video and tried to imagine himself joining the action. He kept his mind off of Deadpool and his form fitting spandex suit. He forced himself not to remember the way he got all flustered whenever Wade flirted with him. He tried his hardest to forget how the merc had looked during their last battle. He did not think about how Deadpool had managed to fit in an entire dance routine whilst dispatching henchman- a dance routine that certainly had not included hip thrusts and booty shakes. Nope, Deadpool most certainly had not given him what could only be called a strip tease whilst fully clothed. Most importantly, Deadpool had not given him what could only be described as a raging boner so obvious, Spider-Man had been forced to take a brief reprieve from their battle against the ne'er-do-wellers.

So yeah, maybe Deadpool had forced Peter to question his sexuality, but as far as Peter was concerned, he was straight until proven gay, or at least bisexual. He had a dildo in his ass, plunging it in with one hand and jerking off with the other, but yeah, perfectly straight. As he came, he most certainly was not imagining Wade's face hovering just above his own, nor his pitted lips pressing themselves gently against Peter's. It most definitely wasn't Wade's name that formed on his too dry lips as he spilled over his hand.

Oh, who was he kidding, he had it bad. Exactly what that meant, however, he wasn't completely sure.


	7. Twist and Shout

Wade was loving his new toy. Heck, he loved being a girl, at least on a temporary basis. He still wasn't sure he preferred one method of masturbation over the other; from what he could tell, they were both pretty great.

He couldn't say that masturbating as a woman was all that different from having sex as a man. He was pretty used to having things inside of him. Real men took it up the ass. (By that philosophy, Wade was probably one of the manliest men he knew, or at least he _was_ ). The only real difference, as far as he could tell, (other than the fact that he was using a completely different set of nerves) was that there was no hit and miss. With anal, you either got the prostate or you didn't. Thus, sex could sometimes be a little stop and go: an ever present burning sensation interspersed with amazing jolts of pleasure. With a vagina, it was all go all the time. He was barreling down Main Street encountering nothing but green lights.

Wade's eyes rolled back with pleasure. His dildo felt amazing, and Judy had been correct, it hit him in all the right places. He could definitely see why women seemed to like this so much. Even the work up had been immensely pleasurable. He silently resolved to spend more time on foreplay with any future interactions he might have.

As a man, Wade prided himself on having an extremely short refraction time. But as a woman? The concept didn't exist. He hadn't stopped fucking himself since he had gotten home, at least an hour ago. Since then, he had had at least two orgasms, and was steadily working his way to his third.

Stars were currently building up behind his eyes and his hips buckled up, unbidden, to thrust even harder onto his toy. His breathing was ragged, and he swore he could almost hear music, it was so amazing.

Wait, that _was_ music. Wade opened his eyes and grabbed angrily at his phone on the nightstand. He didn't stop masturbating though, he'd be dammed if some telemarketer was going to deny him his orgasm.

"What do you want?" Wade asked gruffly.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry. I'm trying to get a hold of Wade? I mean, um, Deadpool? Is he there?" Wade drew his hand back and stared incredulously at his phone. What the fuck? His hand almost stuttered in its rhythm, he was so shocked.

"Weaz, why are you calling me?"

"Uh, I'm not, I'm trying to get a hold of Deadpool…Is he there? Why do you have his phone?"

Wade hoped Weasel was able to hear him roll his eyes through the phone. "Weasel, it's me."

"Umm, hi Me? Can you please put Deadpool on? It's really important."

"No, Weaz, it's me, Deadpool. I'm- I mean, I've been- oh please don't make me say it aloud. It's too embarrassing." Wade threw his head back in exasperation and stifled a moan, though whether from pleasure or annoyance, he couldn't quite tell.

"Yeah, _sure_. Look miss, I'm sure you're a real nice lady, but it is imperative that I talk to Wade and-"

" _Weasel_ , it's _me_." Wade growled darkly into the phone. "Listen to me for just one second, or I'll gut you like a fish and hang you with your own entrails to use your corpse as a piñata."

A long silence hung in the air, and for a moment Wade figured he'd scared him off. His worries, however, were soon allayed when Weasel's frantic voice burst into his ear. "Omigod, Wade!? What the hell! What happened? Why? …Are you hot?" The last question was asked tentatively, tacked on almost as an afterthought.

"Uh, first question? I don't know, I can't remember. Why? Probably the same reason the last five chapters were named after 60s pop songs: the author felt like it. And your last question? I mean…yeah, kinda. I mean, I wouldn't say I'm Jessica Rabbit or anything, but my scars are gone. Weaz, I'm _healed_."

"Healed? Shit…Does that mean your powers are gone? Is the cancer coming back?"

Wade's head spun. He had never even considered the possibility. "I-I honestly don't know Weaz, do you th-th-think that's possible?" Wade asked in trepidation, slightly stuttering over his words as his toy hit a particularly sweet spot inside of him.

"Why do you sound out of breath?" Wade opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly cut off by Weasel. "Never mind! Please don't answer that. You've got lady bits, I know _exactly_ what you're doing. Why you're doing it while _talking to me_ , I have no idea."

"Hey, if you don't like it, you can always hang up." Wade grumbled.

"Uhh…fuck it all to hell. This is too important." Wade raised his semi-present eyebrows at that.

He had been hoping to scare Weasel off. Whatever Weasel needed to talk about must be pretty damn important if he was still talking to Wade. He almost stopped, but he was close enough that his hand had set a furious pace all its own, and he honestly wasn't sure that he _could_ stop. So it was with a slightly breathy voice that he asked exactly what it was that Weasel needed.

"It's the job, man! You half assed the job, and completely disappeared in the middle of it! I thought you were dead!" Weasel paused, and thought about what he had just said. "Okay, well maybe not dead, but-" Whatever Weasel had been saying was cut off by a loud moan from Wade: a totally not on purpose moan that drowned out the rest of Weasel's boring blathering.

"Get to the point, Weasel," Wade demanded quickly, because he could feel another moan waiting to spill out of him.

"Uh, okay then." Geez, Weasel sounded flustered. When he next spoke, his voice was a little rough around the edges. "Like I said, you half assed the job. Grant is sending his men after you, after me too, apparently. I've been dodging ninja all day. I'll look into curing your little problem for you. I have no idea how exactly, especially since we don't even know what happened, but I'll work on it. Now get your act together, or we're both in trouble." With that, Weasel hung up the phone with a click. Wade just stared at the phone in silence until his orgasm ripped through him. And then, well, he was hardly silent anymore.


	8. I Heard it through the Grapevine

"You did what?!" MJ choked on her coffee in surprise, spraying Peter and effectively ruining his scone. "You really expect me to believe that _you_ , Peter Parker took it up the _ass_? That you actually went into a _sex shop_ and didn't invite _me?!_ "

"Okay _firstly_ ," Peter held up a finger. "You are buying me a new scone. I didn't shell out a whole two dollars just for you to spit on my food. _Secondly,_ would you mind keeping your voice down? I don't think the entire café heard you. Unless you'd prefer for me to fetch you a loudspeaker?"

"Sorry!" MJ lowered her voice to a whisper. "I just- I mean I know you said you wanted to experiment, but I thought that meant like dates and stuff. Or, you know, Grindr or something similar. Craigslist even. I never thought you'd actually like-" MJ floundered for a moment and apparently unable to find the right words settled instead on simply curling her middle finger in the same fashion Peter had last night. Peter hid his head in his hands.

"Remind me why I decided to tell you this again?" Peter mumbled through his fingers.

"Maybe because I'm your best friend and you needed someone to talk to? Your best friend who, if I might add, would have loved to drag you to a sex shop to pick up your very first dildo."

"Noted."

"Sooo…Uh, how was it? Did you discover anything?" Despite how much she tried to hide it, not even MJ's awkwardness could hide her enthusiasm. Peter groaned inwardly. He had _known_ that this would happen. And he had told her anyway. Why did he always make such terrible decisions?

"You mean besides my prostate? I mean, I liked it. Like, _really_ liked it. But that doesn't mean anything."

"How does that not mean anything? Seems pretty obvious to me." MJ raised her eyebrows and took another sip of her coffee.

"No, it just means that I like anal. Think about it. You like oral, right? Well that doesn't make you a lesbian." MJ shot Peter a look that he interpreted as a silent 'you don't know me'. Peter rolled his eyes. Now was not the time for MJ's attitude.

"Okay, so what now? You actually get with a guy? 'Cause I could help with that…" MJ's fingers hovered over the pocket where she kept her phone. "Just say the word. I could get you a jock, a geek, probably even that hothead living in the Baxter Building. Just say the word."

Peter chose to ignore the diabolical glint in her eye. "Uh, no. I was just thinking about maybe taking things a little slower. You know, easing into it. Maybe doing a little more research or joining an online forum. You know, answering questions without anything, um, face to face." He shifted uncomfortably under MJ's obviously dissatisfied gaze.

Her face soon brightened, and Peter felt a churning in his stomach that could only mean one thing; MJ had an _idea_.

"Well, as _fantabulous_ as _that_ sounds Peter, I have a much more distinctively _exciting_ opportunity."

"I'm not going to like this idea, am I?" Peter asked in trepidation. "And besides, I said nothing face to face."

"Oh trust me Tiger, where we're going, it's not their _faces_ you'll be looking at."

"…I don't have a choice in the matter, do I?" MJ's silence was all the confirmation he needed. "Fine," he sighed. "At least buy me another scone. I was really looking forward to eating it, and if you're thinking about what I think you are, it's probably going to be the highlight of my day."

MJ smiled. "Oh honey, trust me, you'll love it. But if you need a little sugar before you get some _sugar_ , I'm only happy to oblige."

Peter opened his mouth to protest, but MJ had already strutted away towards the register. Peter threw his head back in resignation. Why, _why_ for the love of all things holy did he make such bad decisions?


End file.
